


precious metals

by DuendeJunior



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Knights - Freeform, Rated For Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeJunior/pseuds/DuendeJunior
Summary: The Maid of Lannister kills the Mad King in the throne room. (a brief fem!Jaime AU)





	precious metals

**Author's Note:**

> someone on twitter: Kill The King And Take The Crown  
me: ok but what if fem!Jaime and Rhaella
> 
> AU where Rhaella isn't shipped off to Dragonstone before Aerys and Rhaegar die. many other details are hazy bc look, I'm here for the Aesthetic of it all. suspend your disbelief, ye who enter here.
> 
> as always thank you morgana for validating me

In the end, Jaime slits the King's throat.

_Poison is a woman’s weapon_, says common wisdom, but Jaime thinks it too underhanded. It’s also one of the things Aerys fears the most and guards himself from, never accepting any food or drink that hasn’t been tested to the point of almost nothing being left on his plate.

So, when it comes to it, she makes use of the blade Arthur Dayne gave her many moons ago as a name day gift, a lovely letter opener with a golden handle, covered in small emeralds that shine like hers and Cersei's eyes. Like wildfire.

The Mad King lies face down on the floor of the throne room, his blood running in tiny rivulets between the cracks. His white hair is brittle and tangled, his nails a horror of grime and dried blood, his crown lost somewhere. He's barely a man now, not any better than the ones who die, alone and unmourned, in the alleys of Flea Bottom.

The blood pools near the hem of her gown now, turning the crimson fabric darker. It's not unlike a water or a wine stain, save for the smell. _Were you ever this calm on the battlefield, Father?_

The sound of footsteps echo in the empty wing, and Jaime tightens her grip on the blade. They're light as the patter of rain in the leaves, but a daughter of Tywin Lannister never lets down her guard.

She turns to find Rhaella Targaryen standing at one of the doors behind the throne. Pale as a ghost, thin as a rail, her whole body a bruise.

And most important of all, alive.

Jaime looks at her across the room, green eyes meeting dull purple, and straightens her back.

The Queen walks towards what once had been her husband. A strong breeze could carry her away most days, but today her steps are surer than Jaime has ever witnessed.

She stops in her tracks and looks down. Jaime follows her gaze and sees the crown at her feet, shining with the feeble glow of Rhaella's silver and white gown.

Outside, they hear the beating wings of the crows that have surrounded the city for weeks.

Jaime walks towards her, the blade still in her hands.

The tall gold crown of Aerys Targaryen is heavy, much heavier than the thin circlet the Queen has always worn. Jaime feels Rhaella’s eyes on her as she picks it up. It's gold, like hers and Cersei's hair. Like the embroidery on her mother's clothes, and Tyrion's nursery. _It would look good on Father._

The surrender bells toll in the distance.

Jaime's gown pools around her like Aerys's blood as she discards her blade and kneels in front of Rhaella Targaryen, lifting the crown towards her.

“Your Grace,” she says.

The Queen wraps her hands around the sturdy crown, made even more fragile by the contrast, but her eyes are hard as amethysts. A shiver runs through Jaime's body.

_Rhaegar's eyes before he left for battle_, Jaime realizes. _Mother, was this the lady you knew in your youth? This mother of kings?_

-

Till the end of his days, Ned Stark was never sure of how much time had passed before he found the Mad King lying in a pool of his own blood near the steps of the Iron Throne. But he never forgot the first thing he saw when he opened the doors.

Rhaella Targaryen, Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, sitting high above them all, the crown of the Dragon Kings on her head. And young Jaime, the Maid of Lannister, poised right before her, every inch a knight.


End file.
